


The Dust We Are Made From

by panickedbee



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst and Feels, Astronomy, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, M/M, also, and james loves thomas, and thomas loves stars and is a nerd, because i love stars, space is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 02:19:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/panickedbee/pseuds/panickedbee
Summary: Captain Flint finds the stars at night and remembers what it used to be like when Thomas held him, breathing poetry into his skin and making England a place to come home to.





	The Dust We Are Made From

**Author's Note:**

> I reuploaded this, changing some stuff and adding to it a little. Because. I wanted to. Imagine a shrug emoji.

We travel the world now, James," he said, standing by the window sill. "This is a new age. Do you understand how tiny we are on a cosmic spectrum?"

James watched him with that certain smile that showed itself sometimes when Thomas was in one of his moods - Thomas the Dreamer, Thomas the Visionary, the Philosopher - a smile that said _You're a little ridiculous, my Lord, but I cannot look away_. He didn't quite understand why Thomas's eyes were so bright tonight as he turned around and took in James sitting on his bed, still wearing his uniform that he knew Thomas liked a lot to see on him.

"And we as mankind like to think so very much of it," he concluded.

"Pardon me but I don't think I could grasp your point yet."

"My point is," and he slowly stepped closer till he was leaning down into James's personal space, their lips inches from each other. It took James's breath away every time to be the focus of those keen eyes, to have him close enough to breathe his air. He turned away, again facing the window sill and the stars outside. He looked like the statue of a great man against the night sky, James thought.

"What we do in this bedroom doesn't matter to the universe. So why does it matter so much to our neighbours?"

"It matters to us," James said without thinking.

Thomas paused. "It does." Again, he turned around, his face full of adoration and a twinge of sadness.  
"Whenever you leave me for the Americas, your stars are never my stars."

But you are the brightest star I see, the voice in James's head offered. What an odd thing to say, he thought then.  
"I should've known you would develop an obsession with this," he said instead.

"With astronomy?" And as Thomas asked this, he had his hands on his hips, his blue dressing gown falling from his shoulders all the way around his ankles, and with the moon over his head and moonlight against his silhouette he looked like the very summoner of the night. Or just someone who recently discovered that he really liked astronomy.

"With science, yes," James clarified. Then he began unbuttoning his uniform. "With things that go far beyond man’s capacity and life span and shouldn't concern the mind of a London nobleman."

Thomas sighed, playfully overdramatic. "What else is the nobleman supposed to be occupying himself with, then, as he patiently waits for the return of his noble navy man?" He watched, patiently and happily, as the uniform jacket met the back of the next best chair and James's defined chest was exposed.

"And what about Miranda?" James asked, looking anywhere but at him. She still continued to be a difficult subject, the wife. Dearest Miranda. "Did she develop a liking of science too?"

"Oh yes, we talk about little else these days." Thomas had come so close his fingers could have reached out and touched where his eyes were already roaming over fine ginger chest hair and collarbones. James would've told him that his eyes were up here but he didn't dare stop him.

"Really?" he asked instead, overplaying his fascination with Thomas's eyes and the gap between his upper and bottom lip. "I never would have thought."

"That's because I was being sarcastic, love."

"Ah." His face felt hotter. He paused. Sometimes, in times not unlike these, he couldn't help but feel like an invader.

Thomas loved Miranda. And he loved them. Their marriage, their interactions and ideologies. Their beauty. The inappropriate twinkle in their eyes when they first look at each other before their eyes fall on  _him._ Heavy, like he was a treasure to be stolen; a scandalous thing made beautiful for underneath the lust and heat, there was something much more dangerous. Affection. _Love_. Something too strong for the heart to let go.

Miranda had seen it first. The sparks that lit the flame. Too observant, too clever not to. He was grateful for her acceptance and the uniqueness of her heart and soul. So much that he often still caught himself doubting it.

"She really is alright with us being...?"

"Oh, Lieutenant." Thomas wrapped his arms around his neck. "I thought that last night ought to have told you all you need to know about the terms on which we all stand, don't you think?"

James felt a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks at the memory and a comfortable feeling was settling back in his stomach. His thoughts shifted to their last night, and oh, it had taught him a lot of things indeed.

Thomas leaned down until his soft lips  
touched his ear and the skin down his neck, sending goosebumps in their wake. The longer Thomas nuzzled into his neck, the more vibrant James perceived the little sparks between them, lighting up something behind his chest and sending tingles of interest down his body. Thomas quietly decided to quit the talking and stick to poetry.

“With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,” he whispered, dropping little kisses along the way, “With April's first-born flow'rs, and all things rare,” and his hands were wandering up and down hard muscles and broad shoulders, “That heaven's air in this huge rondure  
hems.”

His teeth sank into the flesh under that sharp jawline and James gasped.

“O let me, true in love but truly write,” and Thomas sucked lightly, almost hoping to leave marks but knowing that he must not, “my love is as fair as any mother's child,” as he was suddenly behind him, spinning him around and pressing himself against James's back and making him see, “though not so bright,” and together they looked at the stars and the half-moon and long hair tickled his nose. “As those gold candles fixed in heaven's air.”

They were both breathing heavily from so little an action. James felt more of Thomas against him, certain that if Thomas's hands were to finally wander to that place they would feel the same, growing harder between his legs.

“Are you trying to mock me, M'Lord?” he asked roughly under his breath.

“But what makes you think I would, Lieutenant?”

Because he had just told him he wasn't as bright as the stars in heaven. Though he wasn’t quite sure wherever from he took the audacity to be dissatisfied with this. There was a hungry voice living within him, craving to be _everything_.

“Everyone can do Shakespeare,” James managed as Thomas kissed his neck.

“Really?” Thomas chuckled. He loved their little games and their silly titles in the bedroom and the poetry they shared. It made him want to share the rest of his life with his beautiful navy man. His fingers stroke over the outline of his sharp hipbones, diving into those tight white trousers that he loved but loved even more to tear off of him. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband and bit his lip when James gave the lightest thrust against the fabric.

“Doubt thou the stars are fire,” James whispered. He reached back to press Thomas closer to him, to feel his length through despite layers of clothes between them, “Doubt that the sun doth move,” he said, letting his head fall on his shoulder and pushing back into him. “Doubt truth to be a liar,” he groaned, and Thomas sighed with him in unison to finish the line.

“But never doubt I love,” they spoke in one tongue.

James turned in his arms. “See? Everyone can do-” But Thomas caught him off and kissed him, consumed him open-mouthed and with teeth clutching, and they pushed and pushed forward until there was no more space between them. Two becoming one.

"Yes," he breathed roughly. Thomas was gently shoving his trousers down until the rest of his uniform met the floor and then his mind turned blank.

He felt him inside of him, hot, close, and knew the feeling of being so full, so taken by him, was the only thing keeping him alive. He growled uncontrollably with every thrust, wanting it harder and deeper, feel more, be more, have the world become a place for only the two of them. Rolling his own hips he allowed himself the pleasure and pain that came when blank minds were reduced to want, to desires. Wanting it deeper, filling him up completely.

He threw his arms back to throw them around Thomas's neck. Exposing himself so fully. His back was bending and his whole body was stretching, trying to keep up, and he loved every bit of it. Every bit of him.

"Thomas!"

Thomas kissed his neck, huffed sweet breaths and quiet moans into his skin.

"Look," he whispered, tilting his chin up, showing him the night's sky. "It's beautiful."

And James looked at the stars and, in his mind's eye, watched them reflect in Thomas's blue eyes and wanted to lose himself in it all forever.

"To think that all the supernovas, the suns, the moons..." Thomas hummed between moans, "...the planets and creatures and stars that we see and search connections between..." James loved his voice, loved how it sounded in the moonlight, inside of him when no one else could hear. "...are made from the same dust that we are made from."

James whimpered from how close he was.

"I love you and your universe."

"Oh, Thomas!"

With this, the stars he saw grew into violent stars behind his eyes, riding with him from wave to wave until the water reached the shore and he was stranded, limb while Thomas pounded into him a few more times and then he was hot all over, wet, and the heavy weight of Thomas delving over him consumed him.

It was perfect.

The universe watched them in the blue moonlight, and while it did not matter who they were or what they did, it still loved, it had still created them and allowed this moment to exist.  

"Captain!"

James shook his head, pulled out of his memories. His face was flushed, he realised, but it was too dark for anyone else to notice.

 _Great_ , he thought, looking back up at the stars. _Thomas had even ruined the night sky for him._

Back in the present, on his Walrus, somewhere in the Caribbean sea, his stars could never be Thomas's stars.

"What is it?" he growled at Silver, who had called for him. They were the only ones on deck.

"Just thought it was my time to relieve you, captain."

James did not make any move to even further acknowledge his presence.

"Is... everything alright?" Silver asked with a frown.

James felt the sudden urge to yell at him, to unleash all of his inner rage on him and let the ocean know, let the heavens know that everything was not alright, everything had gone to shit years and years ago and there was no more hope in the world that he could be saved from misery. But, as always, Captain Flint swallowed it down for him. Just another straw for the camel's back.

"Perfectly fine," he said then, brushing Silver's shoulder as he walked past him.

Leaving him to the stars and hoping he couldn't see what he saw in them, couldn't find the window that exposed his soul. Hoping he would only see mostly void and dots of light and dust. The dust that they were made from.


End file.
